A tiny girl skipped through the cemetery’s metal gate. Rusty hinges moaned and creaked as the gate slowly swung shut. An orange shirt and brown pigtails bopped up and down as the girl followed the cobblestone path that twisted and turned past generations of lost souls. The girl looked past the stone markers and saw only the lush, green field that stretched as far as her eyes could see. She wondered away from the path and gravitated to the lone tree that towered over the cemetery and seemed to beckon her. She began to climb the gnarled arms of the tree that loomed before her. Reaching the top, she sat in the arms of the largest branch. She watched the squirrels frolic and listened to the sweet song of the birds above her head.

Growing bored, the eight-year-old jumped down from the arms of her companion. She continued to run around the headstones and played hide and go seek with her imaginary friend. Time passed quickly, and soon the sun that had so recently warmed her already tan face began to slowly make its decent into the night. She knew her mother would be looking for her—it was nearly dinnertime. She picked a single rose that someone had just left laying on the ground. She joyfully bounded out the gate and headed back down the street toward home, her treasure grasped tightly in her small hand.

The winter day was fittingly gloomy and overcast as the brunette woman’s black heels clicked on the cobblestone pathway. The gate that she had once opened so joyfully had fallen off its rusted hinges and was thrown off to the side in a pile of weeds that reached the woman’s mid calf. Her black dress swished around her legs almost in unison with the tears that fell from her eyes. She walked to the end of the cemetery and laid her offering at the foot of the large gray stone that marked the plot of her husband. She knelt down in the fresh soil recently torn up. She lovingly caressed the words on the headstone. Her tears fell more rapidly as she bowed her head and wept unashamedly. After she had exhausted the reservoir of tears, she slowly stood up, kissed her hand, and touched the top of the cold marker. Just then, the sky let forth a flood of tears, as if picking up where she had left off. Her hair clung to her face, but she barely noticed the bitter chill of the wind that whipped around her. The biting cold should have settled deep in her body, but she only acknowledged the chill in her heart that would never be warm again.

Through her tears and the pouring rain, she looked up and saw the looming tree that she had loved as a child. She couldn’t help but think that the gnarled outstretched arms were offering comfort and support instead of the joy of a child’s innocent play. The frolicking squirrels that she had marveled over seemed to be running away, as if they had had enough of the dreary cemetery that had been their home for so long. The birds overhead that had once sung such a sweet song now seemed to be singing a song of mourning for all that had been lost.

The seemingly endless maze of headstones that had once been perfect for hide and seek with an imaginary friend, now only reminded her of the loss that she had endured. She slowly walked back to her car, every step making her feet twenty times heavier. The sorrow that consumed her thoughts preoccupied her as she passed through the hole where the gate had once stood. How she could have ever had found joy and peace in this place confused her. She turned and allowed herself one last glance of this dreadful place. But, this time she didn’t notice the lush green field, she saw only sorrow and loss.